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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30010224">Best Laid Plans</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JGoose13/pseuds/JGoose13'>JGoose13</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Rookie (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>CW: attempted laying on of hands but Lucy takes care of the guy, F/M, Panic Attack, This took a heavier turn than I first intended for this fic, Tumblr Prompts, cw: panic attack, misogynistic language, whoops</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 21:07:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,912</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30010224</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JGoose13/pseuds/JGoose13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A night on the town for the Mid-Wilshire Crew turns into a not so fun time for Officer Lucy Chen.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tim Bradford &amp; Lucy Chen, Tim Bradford/Lucy Chen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>136</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Best Laid Plans</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This story is based on two Anon prompts from Tumblr:</p>
<p><b>Anon Prompt 1</b>: "Chenford prompt: Lucy goes to have drinks with the group looking SMOKING HOT, wearing a dress or a skirt and heels. Tim can’t handle all the looks and free drinks she is getting, while she is enjoying herself and teasing him. The jokes, innuendos and bickering quickly turn hot 👀👀"</p>
<p><b>Anon Prompt 2</b>: "Chenford prompt for Tim assisting Lucy with a creep at a bar?"</p>
<p>To my Anons, I tried to do your prompts justice, but I feel like they kind of got away from me with this story. It pretty much called the shots the whole time. I had no say, haha.</p>
<p><b>Content Warning</b>: Lucy has a bit of a panic attack in a club, a guy tries to lay hands on her, but she's Lucy so, you know. And there's some stupid ass comments made by this creep, so mind that as well.</p>
<p>As usual, unbeta-ed work says 'what?'</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>After one long, seemingly never ending shift, the Mid-Wilshire Crew decided to blow off some steam at a new bar a few blocks from the station. They’d planned for this all week, and Lucy had even splurged on a new dress, something a little slinky but not too indecent. It was silver, form fitting, with ribbons of sheer material laced throughout. Sometimes, she just liked to dress up after a day of wearing those stuffy wool uniforms. She’d showered, applied just a tad more make up, and a strong, red lip.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When she emerged from the women’s locker room with Harper, there were several long whistles from Jackson, who’d been waiting in the hallway with Nolan and Angela. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lookin’ good, Luce,” Jackson grinned, knowing how impatient Lucy had been all week to try out this dress. He’d commented on how a certain someone would not be able to take his eyes off of her, and Lucy had preened. Perhaps that was the majority of the reason why she’d wanted to wear it in the first place… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, she looks smokin’ hot, can we get on with it! My ‘sitter isn’t gonna last all night and I want some </span>
  <em>
    <span>dranks</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Angela hooted. Motherhood looked beautiful on her, as did killing it as a detective, but even moms and detectives needed time to chill.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where’s Tim?” Lucy asked, as they left the station. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He said he’d meet us there,” Harper supplied. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sure enough, they turned a corner and there he was, dressed in a gray henley, dark wash jeans, and boots, hands in his pockets, looking generally done with the world. The moment he noticed them coming, irritation bled from his face. When those piercing eyes landed on Lucy, nothing else mattered in that moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mission accomplished.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim opened the door and the crew filed in. Lucy hung back to enter last, and as she passed him, she couldn’t help but feel that normal yet entirely visceral reaction her body had whenever she got near him. It started slowly at the nap of her neck, and crawled deliciously down her spine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Boot,” he greeted. His voice was low, gravely, effectively heating her body at least ten more degrees. Damn him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sergeant Bradford,” she replied airily, trying to keep a veil of nonchalance before pushing herself forward.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stepping into </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bee’s Knees</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Lucy immediately fell in love with the ambiance and the decor. It looked like something straight out of a Prohibition-era speakeasy, and indeed might have been one back in the day. The bar sat to the right as you walked through the double doors, and against one wall was a DJ and in front of him was the dance floor. Intimate little tables had been scattered around, and booths lined the open wall spaces. Without meaning to, Lucy had matched her dress to the vibe in the room, as if she’d stepped out of an old timey L.A. vaudeville act. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Luckily, the crew had grabbed a booth, and settled in. Tim had caught up to her, stepping close to her side. His warm palm pressed against the small of her back, as he leaned down, lips ghosting against the shell of her ear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This dress, boot… Mmm…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucy bit her lip.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To anyone else, especially the people sitting at the booth in front of them, it appeared that a man had stepped close to a woman to be heard over the volume of the music. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To Lucy, though, it wasn’t as friendly or as chaste. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about my dress?” She asked, voice loud enough for only him to hear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s nice,” Tim replied, with just a tinge of indifference. Then, his hand was gone, and he walked past her to slide into the booth next to Jackson. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow, this place is amazing,” Lucy said in awe, her warm brown gaze struck by the Art Deco vibe. She smoothed her dress down as she sat opposite Tim, though it wouldn’t have mattered, as the fringy hem of the dress rode up her thigh. This wasn’t lost on him either. He didn’t miss a damn thing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right?” Jackson said excitedly. “It’s only been open for a couple of weeks, but it’s already getting rave reviews.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I should’ve brought my fedora,” Nolan said, to which everyone else at the table groaned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no, we don’t do fedoras. Fedoras are for douchebags,” Angela supplied from Lucy’s left, patting a comforting hand on Nolan’s shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For once, I kind of agree with Nolan,” Harper teased. “A fedora in here would be classy.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The table groaned again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Roaring 20s was the theme at my senior prom,” Tim said. “I wanted nothing to do with it, but my girlfriend at the time insisted on suspenders.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucy’s mouth dropped, flooded images of Tim Bradford in dress slacks, suspenders, and nothing else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Honestly, not a bad image.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Probably came with the territory of dating the head of the cheer squad,” Harper said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How’d you know I dated a cheerleader?” Tim asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you only talk about your glory days as the QB of your high school team about once every other week, so I just assumed you also dated the head cheerleader. Because that’s how that usually works.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucy had decidedly never been a cheerleader, let alone the head of the cheer squad. In high school, she played a bit of field hockey, but the rest of her extracurriculars were academic based. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You make me sound like Uncle Rico,” Tim huffed, sitting back against the booth to take up his usual posture of arms crossed over chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who’s Uncle Rico?” Nolan asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before anyone could jump into a dissertation of the comedic merits of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Napoleon Dynamite</span>
  </em>
  <span>, their waitress arrived, dressed as a typical flapper, complete with inky black bobbed hair. The cut looked fantastic with the woman’s facial features.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Going around the table starting with Lucy, their vamp waitress took their drink orders and a couple different appetizers for the table. Lucy opted for some stylized, specialty drink that they most definitely hadn’t had in the 1920s, but at least it kept with the theme. When the waitress got to Tim, her demeanor changed, flirty, with an even bigger smile. Tim laid on the charm thick, which made Lucy fume. The waitress burst into unnecessarily loud laughter, and reached out to touch Tim’s shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oof, she’d like to remove that hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The waitress disappeared to put in their order, and Tim glanced at her, eyebrow arched questioningly. Lucy rolled her eyes and turned her attention to Jackson. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Two could play that game.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>An hour later, and Lucy officially could not get enough of this place. The drinks were fantastic, the music was poppin’, and just the general feel of the atmosphere… everyone in that bar was happy and carefree, and it was damn near tangible. Wesley had arrived about fifteen minutes after they’d gotten their first round of drinks, and only then was it a full party. Two and a half drinks in and Lucy felt loose, like the stressors from her shift were shedding away like a snake’s skin, and it was just her again. Not Cop Lucy. Just Lucy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my God, I love this song!” Jackson exclaimed when the beat changed and some new tune from The Weeknd began. “Scoot! Scoot!” He fluttered his hands in Tim’s direction, forcing him out his side of the booth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once Jackson was out, he turned to her, holding out his hand. “You’re dancing with me!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before Lucy could object, Jackson had her out in the center of the dance floor, their bodies swaying to the tune. Lucy fell into the music, allowing it to swirl around her, crash against her rib cage, until she felt almost like she was floating. Or it could’ve been the alcohol. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know if you’ve noticed…!” Jackson began, shouting to be heard over the music, breaking the spell for a moment. “… but like, every guy in here’s been looking at you since you walked in!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nuh uh!” Lucy laughed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah huh! Just look around!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With the observant eye of a newly minted cop, Lucy scanned the room, startled to find that Jackson was indeed correct. Not every guy was sneaking glances at her, but a fair few.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucy felt dizzy, her breath catching in her chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>God, she hated this. Thought that Caleb and the barrel and almost dying was well in her rearview mirror. It was amazing the things that did and did not trigger her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Every guy suddenly had Caleb’s face. Handsome, seemingly empathetic, charming… they were all offering her a drink, escorting her out of the bar, and dumping her in the trunk of a stolen car. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d felt so out of control. Helpless. Lucy </span>
  <em>
    <span>hated</span>
  </em>
  <span> that. She’d vowed to never feel that way again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yet here she was, in the middle of a dance floor, in her new favorite bar, about to have a full on panic attack surrounded by too close, sweaty bodies. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lucy?” She vaguely heard Jackson’s voice. It sounded far away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh God, she needed air. She needed to breathe. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouldering past Jackson, she made for the door as quickly as her heels would allow. Bursting out onto the sidewalk, Lucy took in a deep pull of air, gasping, like Tim had pulled her out of that barrel all over again. Hot tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucy Chen was a fighter. A survivor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>God, why was this so hard?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Miss, are you okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucy spun around, hands clutched to her chest. Her heart hammered in her rib cage, threatening to burst. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A young man stood behind her, a handful of inches taller than her with a seemingly kind face. He might’ve been handsome, but something about him made Lucy uneasy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Y-Yeah, I’m fine,” Lucy replied, trying to brush him off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you sure?” He asked, sounding genuinely concerned, but she wasn’t totally buying it. “You look frazzled. Can I call you a cab? An Uber? I’m headed home myself, I’m sure it wouldn’t be a problem for the driver to take on two passengers.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, thanks,” Lucy said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can’t be too careful out here, ya know? There’s crazies. A beautiful woman like you… they’d snatch you up.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucy wanted to throw up. Definitely not the alcohol. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do these lines usually work on women?” She snapped, body turning, putting her back away from him, priming for a fight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man’s almost handsome face changed, like she was looking at Caleb all over again. Like a switch had been flipped and the mask was thrown off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m just trying to be courteous. You don’t have to be a bitch about it. A lot of women would thank me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucy snorted despite herself. “Yeah, sure, man. Whatever you say.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. Being cavalier and casual clearly called into question his masculinity, his extremely fragile masculinity. Anger marred his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guy didn’t know how to fight, and it was obvious in the sloppy way that he came at her. Even in her slightly inebriated state, Lucy was able to side step his first lunge, and prepare herself for his next attempt to grab her. Out went his arms, and Lucy locked onto his wrist, twirling to pick up enough momentum to flip him onto his back, dropping him hard on the concrete sidewalk. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He surprised her, bouncing back up onto his feet, spitting mad now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>bitch</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Lucy rolled her eyes. One would think guys like him could come up with better insults. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was ready, feet planted. But the next attack never came. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The creep had once more lunged at her, but Tim Bradford came out of nowhere to grab the guy and have him face first against the side of the building in a heartbeat. Tim produced a set of cuffs from somewhere, Lucy couldn’t tell where, and had the metal clamped around the guy’s wrists quickly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s fine, Tim, you can let him go. I think he’s learned.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I dunno, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Officer</span>
  </em>
  <span> Chen,” Tim said, emphasizing the word hard so the guy would clue in to who he just tried to fuck with. “I can think of a couple of other things I could teach him…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taking a step towards Tim, Lucy rested her palm against his shoulder. “It’s okay, really. Let him go, and he’ll never bother another woman like that again, unless he wants to end up in prison where they won’t be as forgiving.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The fear in the guy’s eyes told Lucy everything she needed to know. Her words had struck something, and the guy began to sob. Tim hadn’t been expecting that, and furrowed his brows in confusion. All the same, he pulled out the key to the cuffs and unclasped them, literally booting the guy in the ass up the sidewalk. The guy scrambled away, panicked, clutching his ass. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If she weren’t feeling so strung out right now, Lucy would’ve laughed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim turned, his eyes sweeping across her. “You okay?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucy nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. I had him handled though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim fought, and failed, to hold back a smile. “Oh, I know. I just didn’t want you to have all the fun roughing up creeps.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucy finally allowed herself the laugh, which devolved into barely contained sobs. Tim had his arms wrapped around her in a blink, pressing her head to his chest, cradling her against his body like she was a precious thing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, hey… it’s okay, baby, you’re safe,” Tim whispered softly against the crown of her head, brushing his fingers soothingly through the soft strands of her hair. “You’re safe, sweetheart, I’m right here.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hate this, Tim,” Lucy choked out between sobs. “I hate that I can still be triggered. I hate how unsafe I just felt. And I hate that I’m drenching your shirt.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know I don’t give a shit about that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should!” Lucy exclaimed, the sound muffled by his chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey. Look at me.” Tim spoke firmly, in that T.O. voice that said not to screw with him. Though he hadn’t been her T.O. in a hot minute, it was still ingrained in her to listen, pay attention, follow his command. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lifting her head just enough, Tim held her head gingerly between his hands. They were so big, holding her just right, his fingers curling at the base of her skull. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look at me, babe,” he urged, until she finally capitulated, and met his gaze. Her knees damn near buckled at what she saw there. Worry, compassion, anger, and… well, it was too soon for that, but something akin to love. “You’re okay. You got ‘im. You took care of him yourself. I’ve got you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucy pursed her lips and let out a shaky breath. His voice, the tone and depth and inflection of his words always had a calming effect. Not to mention the comforting warmth of his body heat, and the sensation of his touch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Lucy whispered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jesus, Luce, what the hell are you sorry for?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I had this whole plan… wear this dress, rile you up, maybe get you on the dance floor, and then convince you to take me home and fuck me until I couldn’t leave the bed.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She watched his throat work as he swallowed thickly, trying to not appear affected by her words. But she knew him. She knew Tim Bradford better than anyone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We could…” she continued, tracing the rounded dip of his Henley, brushing her fingertip feather-light against his collarbone. “… we could still do that…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim cleared his throat and shifted from side to side. Lucy couldn’t help the satisfied grin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As much as I would, um, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> love that, baby… I think we should definitely get you home, and in my bed, and not leaving said bed until you’ve had </span>
  <em>
    <span>at least</span>
  </em>
  <span> eight hours of sleep, a good breakfast, and probably some Advil.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Damn Tim for being so fucking noble, and not taking advantage of her vulnerable state of mind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucy sighed, resting her head again against Tim’s chest. “Damn, you’re no fun.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She felt his subsequent laugh rumble through his chest, which made Lucy grin. It was such a good sound. A grounding sound. The calm after a storm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If it makes you feel any better, mission accomplished with that dress. Is that what you’ve been hiding from me all week?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucy nodded, humming in the affirmative. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Little tease,” he murmured against her temple, his breath trickling over her ear and causing her to shiver for the second time that evening. God, how even the simplest act had her toes curling. “The moment I saw you I wanted to rip that damn thing to shreds. It’s offensive to me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was Lucy’s turn to laugh deeply. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like Hell, this thing was expensive. You can keep it together long enough, caveman, to get it off me properly.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see about that…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The night hadn’t been entirely a wash, then. Lucy Chen had set out to seduce her boyfriend with a smokin’ hot dress and maybe tease him just a tad. At least enough to get him so needy that he fireman-carried her to his bed later. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She kind of succeeded. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sleep had been the farthest thing from her mind at the beginning of this night out, but now, curling against Tim in a warm bed, with Kojo ensconced in his own near theirs, seemed like an even better plan. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Follow me on Twitter @JGoose753 and Tumblr @JGoose13.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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